A perfume house under a bushel - Tom Kosmala Rose Amber Musk review

Couldn't find a bushel

As mentioned in my last post, my friend Clare surprised me with a birthday gift of a bottle of a perfume from a house I had never heard of - Rose Amber Musk by Tom Kosmala. Kosmala is a British independent perfumer, whose scent collection seems to be available exclusively at the Apple Tree Market in Covent Garden, though I found the odd additional outlet for his cute looking soaps at least. These are shaped like cupcakes, and may be the products for which Kosmala is currently better known.  They feature a goodly number of what we used to refer to in my food marketing days as 'particulates'. Oh, and judging by this photo, he is also rather easy on the eye, in a dashing, Tom Ford / Terence Stamp kind of a way..

I didn't manage to find a note listing for Rose Amber Musk, for example, but I am assuming there is a clue in the name.  To my nose it reminds me vividly of Ralph Lauren's extravagant rose perfume, Love, that I once tried in Harrods and have never seen since - perhaps a tad less sweet, but plush and opulent like Love.  

RALPH LAUREN LOVE

Notes: Chinese magnolia, mimosa, Bulgarian rose, ylang-ylang, May rose, amber, iris root, patchouli, vetiver, musk and vanilla.

Photo courtesy of Ian Phillips-McClaren

If you are not familiar with that particular fragrance, imagine the 'love' child of the original Stella McCartney and Narciso Rodriguez For Her, give it a luxe twist, and you won't go far wrong. Shades of Guerlain Idylle as well - the original one I mean, if anyone can remember that far upstream.

All three key notes are readily discernible, and while Rose Amber Musk smells straightforward like its name, it does come off as luxurious. I could almost picture it as a Roja Dove creation - 'Rose Amber Musk Extrait', say ;) - for the ingredients feel very high quality. Yes, I will wear it quite happily - good spot, Clare!

Rose particulates ~ Source: Lang Yee via Pinterest

Now not only is Tom Kosmala very much under the perfumista radar, but his footprint in Google is light to point of imperceptible, and I was able to glean next to nothing about this house on the Internet. I found a Tom Kosmala who is a a field engineer with 1'st Rail, but I am guessing that isn't our man. At the time of writing the brand doesn't appear to have its own website, and I can find no note of prices on the Covent Garden page for the store. I guess I could ask Clare, but that would be rather impolite! When I compare Tom Kosmala's low key marketing approach to Liz Moore's careful nurturing of her brand on social media in the run up to the Papillon Perfumery launch, the contrast couldn't be more marked. Though maybe that is all about to change...?

Well, I ended up ringing the professional portrait photographer who took this shot, Ian Phillips-McClaren - first off to ask his permission to use it, for he seemed to be the only source of images on the Internet(!) - and secondly to ask him if he knew any more about this rather reclusive nose.

A pro like Ian would have lost the bit of teal sofa in the corner

I learnt from my chat with Ian that Kosmala has a new range in the wings, soon to be launched in the Middle East, and comprising two scents - one for day and one for evening - in an extremely high end presentation. The scents come in highly lacquered boxes - one white, one black - lined with sumptuous red velvet. Perhaps Kosmala will be majoring on the export scene and the UK perfumes - why, I don't even know what other scents are available here! - were more of a toe in the water before the big push overseas. Time will tell, perhaps.

Ever the interviewer, I quizzed Clare herself about her visit to the store. She confirmed that she had met Kosmala, who was very chatty and friendly and surrounded by an eager throng of customers / admirers. She recalled there being other scents in the line, but couldn't name a single one. Half a job, Clare!

So... if you like rose scents in the general territory of Vera Wang, Chloe, RL Love, Stella, NR For Her or Guerlain Idylle, I would imagine there's a good chance you'd like Rose Amber Musk. Like a fragrant Ronseal, it 'smells what it says on the bottle'.

L'Oréal Men Expert, Mr Bonkers, And The Slippery Slope To Male Grooming

Back in February, I wrote this post, marvelling at how Wikio's mysterious searchbots had seen fit to award me the ranking of No 44 Beauty Blog. At the time, I was No 3396 in the "General" category, which doesn't have nearly the same ring to it...I have just checked, and I have now slumped to a shaming 4122! How did that happen, I wonder? Could it be due to the hiatus during my recent US work trip? Or perhaps my rather leisurely blogging frequency even when I am at home simply doesn't cut it anymore in today's increasingly fast paced, media-rich world. But I will try not to be unduly concerned by things like rankings, and carry on blogging when the mood takes me about random stuff loosely related to perfume, even if it does prompt the occasional backlash from an outraged reader:

"I find it absolutely fascinating that we have someone like Mark Zuckemberg and then we have someone like you who seats around and smells fragrances and state her opinion...wow! And they say GOD doesn't make a mistake. Boy were they wrong; How it must feel to live in your head."

So you never know, the slip in rankings could be due to the uncompromising whimsy of the Bonkers "house style". As it happens, the editors at Cafleurebon considered including my first piece for them along with their other submissions for the FiFi awards, but quickly ascertained that it wouldn't have fitted the entry criteria. I am, however, delighted for the team that three Cafleurebon features were amongst the five finalists for the category "Editorial Excellence Fragrance Coverage/Blog".

And then for a while now I have been meaning to report on a recent surprise development in Mr Bonkers' personal grooming routine. In choosing to write about this topic now, I would like to stress that I am in no way attempting to arrest the decline in my Wikio Beauty ranking, though to the cynical observer I realise it may look suspiciously like it!

But before I get on to Mr Bonkers' skin care issues, there has been a change in my own thinking on moisturisers. For every January my New Year's Resolutions look something like this:

Eat more fish
Drink more water
Drink less alcohol
Moisturise
Exercise

And of course each year goes by with me signally failing to do any of the above, though I have at least taken up Pilates once a week. I remember reading a blog post by Josephine on moisturising routines (which I couldn't find again, or I would have linked to it), and thinking that I never actually feel the need to apply body lotion ie my skin never feels dry - except possibly after shaving my legs - though not always even then.

Then in the last few months all that changed, and if not every day, certainly every other day or so, my shins feel taut and dry and I do now apply body lotion - sometimes even on the rest of my legs - and if I am feeling very conscientious, my stomach. Sadly, my stomach never ever feels taut, (though arguably it might if I upped the Pilates classes), so I am applying the moisturiser to that area just for the hell of it! Fortunately I have a huge collection of moisturising lotions to choose from: a mixture of unused gifts down the years to mineswept toiletries from hotel rooms.

And so around the same time as I was starting to adopt a moisturising régime - even one that is only partial / intermittent - Mr Bonkers also complained of dry skin one day, and actually said that he wondered if he should use some kind of cream on his skin. Well...needless to say I nearly fell off my chair at this, as he has resolutely eschewed all forms of "added value" toiletries for as long as I have known him, preferring to stick with what I believe is now rather coyly termed a "cleansing bar", but which you and I know is just a lame attempt to sex up soap.

Yes, Mr Bonkers is a major advocate of soap and water - a combination as natural in his eyes as vegetable jalfrezi and vegetable pilau rice. In fact one of the few household chores for which he is happy to assume complete responsibility is the dying but important art of "soap joining", as in pressing the slivers of several cakes of soap together, rather than just throwing them out at this point.

I don't wish to give the misleading impression that soap is the only toiletry he uses, for Mr B will also engage with basic versions of shampoo, anti-perspirant and shaving foam, however, he favours "functional" toiletries as opposed to any that might be construed as having a "vanity" dimension: things like moisturiser, hair putty, guyliner etc, namely all the grooming products that fall towards the metrosexual end of the spectrum.

For till now Mr Bonkers was proud of his sandpapery, salty seadog complexion, and associated moisturiser with urbane posers wearing messenger bags (or would have done, had he known what a messenger bag was). In the end, though, the sensation of physical discomfort eventually won out and he asked me to find him a moisturiser that would make his skin feel hydrated (not his exact words), while being non-greasy, easily absorbed and preferably unscented.

A couple of hours' intensive googling led me to L'Oréal Men Expert Hydra Energetic Daily Anti-Fatigue SPF 15 Moisturising Lotion Active UV Defence Vitamin C + Antioxidant(!). It seemed to get a pretty good press on review sites and men's magazines like Men's Health, so the next day I popped into Boot's and presented Mr Bonkers with his own tube of this wonder goop! He said he would use it after shaving...

....a week or so went by...

....whereupon the by now lightly bearded Mr B finally decided it was time for a shave, following which he broached the product for the first time.

On the plus side, he declared that it didn't smell of anything in particular to his nose, but it stung slightly and was a bit "slimy". Now, I think that someone not used to applying any kind of unguent is bound to think a moisturiser is slimy, even though to most people it might just be "smooth" or even "silky". So Mr Bonkers has agreed to use the gel sparingly after shaving, but that is probably the extent of his new metrosexual skin care routine for now. I was quietly hoping that thanks to its "hydra energetic" properties Mr B might mow the lawn a bit more often, but the early signs are not promising. Maybe it takes time for the cumulative effects of an occasional session to build up and have an impact. Much like my Pilates sessions indeed.

So on balance the L'Oréal Men Expert moisturiser probably isn't a slippery slope to male grooming in the sense of the thin end of the wedge, or an inevitable trajectory on which Mr Bonkers is now embarked. More of a slimy slope that he will tread as lightly and infrequently as his parched skin permits. So I sense that he won't be relinquishing his soap joining duties any time soon...


Photo of L'Oreal Men Expert from binbin.net, photo of mutant tomato from pinktentacle.com, photo of vegetable jalfrezi (minus the rice!) from crackinggoodfood.org, photo of salty sea dogs from theclubhouse1.net, photo of green slime from chemistryland.com, other photo my own

Roger & Gallet Sandalwood Soap - For Suds That Smoulder...

Roger & Gallet is a well known brand of toiletries comprising perfumes, "fragrant water", solid and liquid soaps, body lotion, hand cream, shower and shaving gels, and scented candles. Ever since I was a child, back in the distant heyday of Bronnley lemon soap, Baededas bubble bath and Yardley talc, Roger & Gallet soaps exuded an air of luxury and were the ultimate aspirational gift. Today I would probably accord that status to small leather goods from Aspinal or a silver locket from Penhaligon's, however, I would still place Roger & Gallet solid soaps pretty high in the gift list pecking order.

Curiously, I don't feel the same about the other products in the range, least of all the perfumes. This may be due to the fact that they are extensively stocked in my local department store, which I regard as the kiss of death to all things fashionable and in good taste. To my mind, the other problem with the brand is that it has wide distribution in pharmacies, where it takes its chances alongside the depilatory creams, lip salve and dental floss.

Ah, I hear you say, but the perfumes in Boots also live cheek by jowl next to a motley assortment of corn plasters, Frizz-ease and cotton wool balls, so is the fragrance section of Boots also to be written off on account of its chemist-y contiguity? No indeed, for the perfume counter in Boots is big enough to square up to the rest of the store and its array of glamorous and not-so-glamorous medicaments and toiletry staples.

But the distribution of Roger & Gallet products through independent chemists troubles me for some reason, and undermines the credibility of its perfumes. Though not, crucially, that of the soaps...

Bois de Santal (Sandalwood) is my personal favourite. Many perfumistas are on a permanent quest to find the ultimate sandalwood fragrance. I believe I have found it in Damien Bash Lucifer No 3 - or I have until something better comes along - which I doubt it will. But for anyone still out there chasing their HGSS (Holy Grail Sandalwood Scent), there is a lot to be said for cutting your losses, aborting the quest - Damien Bash has discontinued its perfumes anyway - and sniffing this soap instead.

For Roger & Gallet is without question the ne plus ultra of sandalwood soaps - and I speak from a position of some authority, as we are a two brand sandalwood soap household, the other make being Taylor's of London. Taylor's is also round, and teasingly wrapped in that familiar ruched paper spiral, secured by a central circular label. Moreover it does smell somewhat of sandalwood - admittedly, more when it was new - for the scent seems to have faded in use.

Yes, the Roger & Gallet has the more robust sandalwood fragrance of the two. It is richer and more woody, incensey even, which makes the experience of pressing your nose to the paper almost meditative. You don't even need to take the paper off to get an uplifting lungful. And that way you can also savour the conspiratorial crackle of its wrapping. This is the Musc Khoublai Khan of the sandalwood soap scene. I almost feel like a member of a secret sect when I sniff it...

Now my special bond with this soap may be enhanced by associations with someone from my past. I don't wish to overplay this connection, because he also used another soap from the R & G range which didn't move me especially, from which I deduce that the primary appeal remains the sandalwood itself.

Mr Bonkers, meanwhile, has a much more matter of fact approach to soap, and has never to my knowledge cared for a specific soap fragrance, let alone been bowled over by its smoulder. His main requirement of a bar of soap is that it should be free of particulates (petals, lavender sprigs, poppy seeds and other "encrustacea"), not smell too "poncy" (frangipani, lily of the valley, magnolia, rose) or too "weird" (hemp, black pepper, tar, algae, olive oil, also anything dark and inherently sinister, not forgetting bile - see photo below), and most importantly that it should produce a good lather. I agree with him about the particulates, and my other two bêtes noires are strongly scented soaps of any kind, and ones that either crack, or conversely, turn to mush.

For although I may reserve the right to turn to mush emotionally when sniffing this transcendental rendition of the sandalwood note, it is imperative that the soap itself stays firm, right down to the last little sliver...Which this bar of Roger & Gallet has every chance of doing, since it has never been in contact with water, and only briefly came out of its handy plastic carrying case long enough for me to write this post.


Photo of Roger & Gallet soap from garden.co.uk, photo of a chemist from chemistanddruggist.co.uk, photo of Taylor's soap from the company's website, photo of gall soap from Wikimedia Commons.

L'Eté En Douce And The Gentle Art Of Stealth Perfuming

The other day, Mr Bonkers attempted to climb into an unmade bed - that's "unmade" as in stripped. In other words, no bedding had been put back on following the mysterious business of laundry processing, which is conducted in our house by a team of invisible and recurring fairies. I shan't specify who these fairies are exactly, but let's just say that I bear an uncanny resemblance to every last one of them. Realising his error, Mr B agreed under duress to help me make the bed first before getting into it. I use the word "help" advisedly, as bed making is largely outside his sphere of competence, along with buying the correct sort of aubergines, detergent and ham.

So I took one corner of the duvet and gave Mr B the other to hold and insert in the duvet cover. I had already got my corner all the way in, when I noticed that Mr B was attempting to stuff the top corner of the duvet into the lower corner of the cover.

"No", I said, "you have to thread it through and up to the other end."

"The wheresit?"

"Up there - a place known as 'the top right hand corner'." Sensing my playfully patronising tone, Mr B smiled, but continued to stab the top corner of the duvet into the opening of the cover.

"Well, I just thought you could maybe use a bit of nomenclature", I quipped.

Mr Bonkers laughed good naturedly, and said: "Well, I don't know what 'nomenclature' is, but it sounds disparaging!"

Whereupon we both collapsed in giggles, and moments later the penny had dropped and the corner was correctly despatched to its rightful corner.

Then last night I hatched a mischievous plan - based around the idea of detergent, indeed ...

Knowing that Mr Bonkers eschews all forms of fragrance, lovethescents jokingly suggested once that I apply a bit of cologne to his person while he slept - a practice known as "stealth perfuming". At the time, I thought that that was a bit radical and risky as pranks go, but last night I came up with a more subtle approach, and stealth perfumed the duvet cover with L'Artisan Parfumeur L'Eté en Douce. L'Eté en Douce is one of my most expensive "albatross" scents, bought in an impulsive moment by what Katie Puckrik recently dubbed the "pin the tail on the donkey" method, right before closing time in Bon Marché in Paris.

Notes: mint, rose, orange blossom, hay, white woods, and (shedloads of) white musk

As anyone who has read Perfumes: The Guide will know, Luca Turin famously compared L'Eté en Douce to "laundry-soap-on-steroids", and - despite a pretty linden note in the opening - this perfume is seriously spoilt for me by an insanely high dose of clean musk, exactly like washing powder.

There are three other things I should perhaps mention: firstly, Mr B has remarked that his mother's laundry smells fresher and cleaner than ours - he has even referred to our clean washing on occasions as "musty". Hmmm...those fairies may need a bit of a pep talk on pre-wash fabric softener procedures. Secondly, the last time I wore L'Eté en Douce (admittedly layered over a German body lotion with aloe vera), Mr B actually said I smelt quite nice. Yes, this is the second such instance apart from SJP Lovely - the unifying factor being the scent of soap. Thirdly, L'Eté en Douce (which roughly translates as "summer comes gently") was formerly known as Extrait de Songe ("extract of a dream"), before the clash with Annick Goutal's Songes prompted a re-think. So, you never know, maybe he would actually sleep better as a result of my little experiment...

Given all these facts, I didn't feel too mean therefore when I crept into the bedroom last night - Mr B having conveniently nodded off downstairs in front of "Amish: The World's Squarest Teenagers" - and sprayed his side of the duvet cover a few times with L'Eté en Douce (okay, maybe about 10 or so: mostly outside, a couple inside, and one on the pillow underneath the one he puts his head on).

This morning, agog with curiosity, I inquired how he had slept.

"Very well, thanks."

"Did you notice anything?"

"Like what?"

Which was my cue to come "clean" immediately about the stealth perfuming scam.

"Actually, I did...it was vile....well, not vile, but a bit too much."

"So....did you get a clean laundry smell, then?"

"Yes, and I couldn't work out how."

(I'm issuing those fairies with a formal warning.)

"But you had a good night?"

"I don't know, I was asleep."

On hearing the good news that I had sort of got away with it, I promised Mr Bonkers that I would not pull such a stunt again. And though I may have managed to "waste" a couple of ml in my spraying spree, the albatross remains firmly round my neck. Though on the upside, Mr B is now a competent bed making partner.


Photo of L'Eté en Douce from letsbuyit.co.uk, photo of laundry fairies from woodlandsenchanted.co.nz and artlandmark.com, photo of detergent molecules from elmhurst.edu